Rory and Avi, Elsewhere
by persevera
Summary: Life without Avi can't be any worse for Rory...or can it? (From reviews) "As I know Rory and Avi well, I agree... that his sorry state is out of character for the Glee Project/Glee lad, but it is perfectly understandable based on what your Rory has been through with/for this girl."
1. Sorry State

_**a/n This story will be back and forth narrations between the main characters, who are currently separated. The flashbacks are in third person (a) to provide some context to the characters' narratives and (b) to show the readers how they were together.**_

_**July 9, 2012**_

_The young man and woman splashed playfully in the brook that ran next to where the RV was parked._

_Slipping back into his shorts, Rory asked, "Do you think they'll be alright?"_

_"Who?"_

_"The girls."_

_Avi shrugged. "No reason they shouldn't be. In the end they just got an interesting story for their What I Did on My Summer Vacation essays—spent a weekend in a hotel with a hot Irish guy."_

_Then she shook her head a little. "It could have been so much worse if you hadn't been waiting at the airport when we arrived. I wasn't watching out for the girls or trying to keep the men away from them. I was useless, caught up in Reg's head games. If you hadn't been there to help me find my strength…and I've never properly thanked you."_

_"That's funny," he said wryly, watching her dress, "I feel thanked"._

_She took on a formal attitude. "No, this is important." She stood over him and held his hands. "On behalf of Gillian, Taneka, Carrie, Jordan, Trixie and myself, you saved our lives. And we're forever grateful."_

_He rose and held her close, as if she were a miracle. His older brother Brian had told him about the room that the police had found in Tim Maebry's castle, with the stark bed and chains and…accessories. Would that have been Avi's ultimate destination? Instead she was here. He could hold her and love her. On behalf of all of them, he sent a thank you up the chain of command._

* * *

"You can't use me like that and then just leave, Rory Finnegan."

I look at her in surprise. What did she expect after we'd known each other just a few hours? I'm in such a foul mood, that I want to say somethin' real short, like _I just did. _But my mam would slap me raw if I ever talked to a woman like that. Instead I grab my jacket and say "Sorry, I thought we were usin' each other," then walk out of the woman's flat before she can say anything else. It's still not polite, I know, but if I go back and apologize, I'll have to hear her again.

New rule: not only do all of the women I have need to be older than me, I need to be able to stand to listen to them afterwards—that or able to get away quicker. I don't care what they look like. It's not like they could be prettier than Avelina anyway so, what difference does it make?

Geez, what I've been reduced to...from a happy guy, being loved by the most gorgeous, lovable, exciting girl in America, to a pathetic, angry asshole, driving alone around Ireland and England, picking up girls (that is women) in pubs, parks and other public places. (The alliteration habit that Avi and I started hasn't stopped.)

When I first found out that I was going to America as a foreign exchange student, I wanted to be sent someplace sunny, like California or Florida. Instead, I got Dayton, Oh, and months of being slammed into lockers, snubbed—typical bullying. I'd made a few friends, but I wasn't enjoying my time there until Avi came from New York and changed my life.

I remember our meeting like it just happened. It was the end of February. I was talking to a friend before classes started and she walked by and said hello to him and smiled at me. She seemed to say "follow me," so I did. Everybody else—strangers, friends and bullies—were pushed to the side in my mind. There was just this girl I had to know. She's one of those people who just make you feel good to be around her and when she loves you...it's incredible.

But now she's still in Ohio and I'm back on the road in Europe, doing what I can to keep from missing her too much. It surprised me at first how much the minor celebrity of me and my brothers would keep me constantly laid. We haven't done anything on our peace campaign in over a month, but the girls still remember…in Ireland anyway. In England I have to use a little more effort, but the outcome's the same.

I'm six feet with dark hair, a good smile, and a deep voice that Avi said was like honey. And she loved my blue eyes, almost as much as I love hers. They're so dark, they're almost black. They see and know everything, like how to make me her slave for life.

"Bong," goes that bell, as I walk across the car park. I hate it. I guess it's fine for people in their offices during the day and homes at night, but I'm in this badly-insulated RV and I get no relief from the damn bells of Big Ben and the clock. It's just an hourly reminder that I have nowhere else to go.

Maybe I should correct that. This sorry state is my choice. My family's still at home. They want me there, even if I did act like a real ass between the time that Avi left after her visit here and I finally took off. Not a great idea to fall in love at 16 with someone I only knew a few months and who is now thousands of miles away…but nothing to be done about it now.

Our goodbye at the airport was final—not because we didn't love each other, but because we did. I didn't want her to waste away, waiting for me, and she couldn't stand the idea of either of us becoming less important to each other over time.

I tried to carry on normally, but it was so damned hard. I guess the final straw was when I came home drunk one night and my little sister Celia said, "Avi would be so disappointed". She didn't think I knew that?

But I couldn't help it. There was emptiness in me, where my life had been so full, and I couldn't figure out how to live with the change. The only time I'd felt good since she went back to Ohio was when I planned my vengeance trip to that bastard Tim's castle and broke his jaw—one full minute of complete satisfaction.

After my night of drunken disgrace, Brian took me out for a lot of sobering coffee and we talked about that. He's a law student so he shut me up just before I could tell him about the castle visit. But he knows what a degenerative creep Tim is and he helped me to see that I couldn't stand not knowing what he was doing, if he was using any other young girls like he had my Avelina.

So now I follow him all over Europe, making sure he doesn't get a chance with anyone else. I want to keep watching him until I get the evidence that'll put him in prison where he belongs. How long will I do this? I don't know, but right now I don't want to do anything else, since I can't be with Avi.

It's not just getting over first love. In the first place, I don't want to get over it, and in the second place, it's everything we went through together.

In Ohio we ignited each other because we didn't have a lot of time before I'd have to go back home.

"You should've known better than to get so wrapped up in somebody you'd only be able to see for a few months," Brian had said that night in the coffee shop.

"How was I supposed to know better? I'd never been in love before," I'd argued, letting the steamy drink touch my lips. It's the only thing that had in weeks at that time.

The all-night diner was quiet, low-lit with no decoration and almost empty, like the owner knew anybody in there at that hour would be in the shape I was and didn't need anymore stimulation than the brew.

"Well, I can see where Avi would've been impossible to resist," Brian had said. "And after the episode in Cork with her and the other girls...those sick men...I feel protective of her too."

He'd studied me for a minute then asked, "Is that it? Are you afraid she'll fall victim to other predators?"

"Stop talkin' like a damn lawyer," I'd told him. "No, I'm not afraid she'll "fall victim" to anyone. She's too smart to let something like that happen again."

I remember putting my head on the table. "What am I gonna do without her? I know tellin' her we couldn't see each other anymore was the right thing. We're too young and too far away from each other and I want her to have a normal life, but what am I gonna do without her?"

Then Brian had said, "I don't know, Rory, but you can't keep on like this. Celia is right; Avi would be disappointed."

That's when I hit on this brilliant scheme. Brian didn't like the idea, but I guess thought as long as he helped me, then I'd stay in touch and he'd know what was going on...or at least, what I let him know. All I want right now though is sleep.

_Rory, baby,_ I hear the whisper, _c'mere_.

"Oh, Avi," I practically beg, "no, not tonight". But then I feel her hands on my face and neck and her sweet trail of kisses. I follow that trail, as if I had any choice.

The bed isn't empty to me. I can see her lying there, like that first night here, the best night of my life, followed by the best two days that we spent in the woods alone—the Latina Eve with her Celtic Adam.

Yeah, I'm young and in love, but I'm being totally objective when I say she's the most beautiful thing (person, sunset, natural or man-made wonder) in the world. She has the softest black hair, enough curves for two girls (small, but ideally-proportioned—that's what the critic wrote about her when she was in that young people's theater group in New York). And that face—the big, dark eyes, beautiful little nose and perfect mouth. There's a reason they call it Cupid's bow lips. They might've been designed by the man himself, just for kissing.

I've learned in the last month that I have great sense memory. I know how she feels; I can smell my favorite spicy and sweet scent on her skin and run my hands over its silkiness. I don't touch myself though. I don't want to feel my big, rough hands; I want her. Sometimes, when I'm really lucky, I can get as far as...ahhhh, there it is—internal Avi, my favorite place in the world.

Aww, Avi, I miss you so much. Do you miss me? You're not...I mean, I know I said I didn't want you to wait for me, and I didn't want to think of you alone, but...and I've lost her.

This is why even though it's the only thing I can really enjoy, I fight it...why I use the women to wear me out so I don't do this, but go to sleep quick and have normal dreams about Avelina. Because losing her over and over again, like I always do when I think of her in bed with me, is killin' me.

I have to be where she is or I'm gonna lose my mind. It's not a choice anymore. I don't have or want a life without her. I'd be there already, if it weren't for the bastard Tim.

I hate him more than I ever thought I could hate anyone—the "sophisticated, distinguished" (that's how he was described in one of the newspaper clippings I've collected on him) rich man, who lives in a castle and, with the help of Avi's slimy theater director, Reg Ralston, used and hurt her when she was sixteen.

God, that night that I heard her crying and talking in her sleep, begging him to stop...And he planned to take her and keep her when she was here in Ireland this past summer, with the other girls, believing there was a cultural exchange program for theater kids. She saw it as a way to get to me. But it was bogus, a lure created by Tim and that pimp of a theater director to get her here so he could keep her captive.

He actually thought he was going to drag her out of a restaurant in broad daylight and take her to the tower room at his estate that the police found. How he got out of custody so fast, I haven't been able to find out. But if anyone deserves to rot in prison, it's him. He molests young girls, he bribes to get out of trouble, he makes plans to live out these sadistic dreams of his_, and he's keepin' me from Avi!_


	2. Every Night

_** July 18, 2012**_

_In the airport, waiting for her flight to take her back to The States, Avi stood with Rory at the large window, watching the planes. Rory ironically stated "I hate America"._

_She increased her hold around his middle. "I hate anything that separates us."_

_He lifted her chin with his fingertips so they were looking in each other's eyes. "Avelina, I don't want you to wait for me."_

_She fought her inclination to look down. "I know. And I don't want you to feel pressured to come back to me."_

_He cradled her head beneath his chin. "After what I've had with you, I know love is your nature. The only thing worse than imagining you with someone else…"_

_"…is imagining you with no one," Avi finished, stating their mutual feeling._

_Tears gleamed in her eyes. "Should we do one of those pacts to see each other in a particular place at a particular time?"_

_"Avelina, my worst moment would be waiting for you and you didn't come. That's something I couldn't stand."_

_She sighed heavily. "The worst for me would be planning to stay in contact with each other and that dying slowly because of other interests or responsibilities. I never want you to be diminished in my mind. So that rules out a techno relationship like we've had this summer."_

_Rory looked down shamefaced, "…especially since the demands I put on you almost led to you and five innocent girls being victims of human trafficking."_

_She tilted her head so she could catch his eye again. "It wasn't your demands; it was my need for you."_

_"Our needs, our desires," Rory clarified, "and it's not like they're any less now, right?"_

_"Right."_

* * *

Ugh, every night! I lose him again, reliving that scene in the airport, every night. I can't believe I agreed to have no contact with him. We were both so damn noble and...idiots!

So then I lie here wide awake, cry a little, and remember all of the reasons I go through this nightly torture—Rory's smile and laugh and kiss and eyes and understanding of me and...

Mmm—he's holding me again. I scrunch up my shoulders for him to enfold me as much as possible. I'm kind of petite and he has these long arms and big hands, so it's like I can disappear when he holds me...disappear and be back in Ireland with him.

I hate Ohio now. I grew up here and I was so ready to come back home after my bad experience in New York last year. I thought I was in love with the sleazy director of my young people's theater group, Reg Ralston. I had been a member and occasional star of it for three years then he came along and...gross.

If that weren't bad enough, I discovered that he was a part of this club that liked to share young girls and I was supposed to be his ante to the pot. It just makes me cringe.

But then, almost the first thing I see when I walk in the high school is the Irish exchange student. He was such a breath of fresh air after all that. He was fresh in a lot of ways.

Ang and my other friends told me that he'd been really awkward and shy the first months of school before I got there, but I never saw that. He was so cute and charming. He reinvented carrying a girl's books to class with that great book bag he had. He joked that he could actually carry me in it.

Did I want to love with someone who was going to be here for just a few months? No. Could I keep from it after spending a little time with him? No.

The school's so dreary without him there now. The town's dreary; my life is dreary. I tried dating since he said he hated to imagine me alone. It didn't go well.

They were all nice enough, but one guy's voice was too high, compared to the deep, honeyed tones of Rory's. Another's hair wasn't as soft when I touched it...too tall or too short. Rory's the only guy with the perfect combination, plus who else would have been as great as he was after everything that happened? And I want him back.

I wonder what he's doing now. Let's see it's 2am here. The only thing I can really see is the neon glow of my clock. It's seven in the morning there. I guess he's still in bed for at least a little longer...in his house with his parents and brothers and sweet little sister Celia. I can't have any contact with them either.

Maybe I should try to go back to sleep now. Mmm, hold me again, Rory; kiss me.

Oh, I loved the feel of his weight on me during those two days we had in the RV. It's hard to believe he was a virgin before then. He was so...instinctive, playful and romantic. He touched me like he'd always known me.

I was more experienced than he was, but it wasn't necessarily a good experience—first with Reg, then his friend from the club, Tim.

I don't want to think about him; I'll never go to sleep.

Theater Kids International: what a joke. It was supposed to be a summer theater program to bring young people to Ireland, but it wasn't. It was planned by Reg and Tim to bring me and some younger girls over for the men who had paid for them. It's just...disgusting.

Brian and Rory helped us get away from them. I hate to think what would have happened to us if they hadn't. I mean...I like to I believe I could have gotten away, but the creeps would have probably drugged us and separated us, like in that Liam Neeson movie, and who knows what would have happened then—if not to me, then at least to some of the girls. Trixie, Jordan, Carrie, Taneka, and Gillian—they're my little sisters now, safe and sound in their homes, thanks to the beautiful Irish brothers.

At least Reg and those other creeps had to do some jail time, but Tim got away totally free. The judge _apologized_ to him.

I'd kind of hoped that the case would have gone to trial and they'd need me to come back to Ireland to testify about how he tried to take me to his castle against my will, but he got an apology instead. They say money can buy "justice."

Tim sure proved that.

Oh, Rory, I'll have to figure out another way to get back to you. You get one year, boy, then I'm forcing myself on you. Remember, I'm a year older. I turn 18 in May. I'm saving all my money and by next summer, I'm coming for you. I don't care where you are or who you're with or some dumb idea of what's better and more realistic for us...your ass is mine!


	3. Tailin' the Bastard

_**August. 10, 2012**_

_Timothy Maebry was alone, as usual, in his drawing room one evening, sipping cognac and reading de Sade. He looked up, startled, at the sudden appearance of someone wearing bulky sweats, gloves and a stocking cap that covered the face._

_"You think you've gotten away with it, don't you," the person said coldly._

_Maebry rose, as if to run or call for help, but the intruder advanced on him. _

_"But I'm watchin'," said the stranger with a deep, low voice, pushing against Maebry, as he began to move backwards. "I'll get the evidence on you some day. And in the meantime, I'll make sure everyone knows if you go near a young girl again."_

_The man of the manor clutched desperately for a weapon behind him—a vase, lamp, something—but there was nothing. His eyes and mouth gaped with fear, as he backed into a wall, unable to escape._

_"But for now," continued the masked one, "you'll pay a small price with this, and don't pretend you don't know who it's for."_

_The unknown person swung a fist one time and Tim crumpled to the stone floor. The assailant then left through the secret passage that led to the old dungeons. He pulled off the stocking cap and shook out his dark, wavy hair, and continued through the dungeons to a connecting cave. His striking blue eyes scanned the horizon as he came out onto an old dirt road and ran to his waiting RV._

* * *

Time for another day of tailin' the bastard. First thing is coffee—lots of it. I get a granola bar out of the cabinet—chocolate chip. It was Avelina's favorite. I never thought I'd like these things, but I still have so many from when I bought them for her, that I've developed a taste for them.

Why can I see her? She's not supposed to be with me during the day. I can't allow myself to think about her like this, except at night.

"I miss you, A-Rrrorrrable," I hear her and see her say with that cute little pout. Oh, God, not the rolled R's. I have things to do today. I can't just sit here with a figment of my imagination.

Luckily, nature calls; I have to leave. I get up and look back. I still see her, lively and pretty. "You comin?" I ask with a smirk.

She licks her lips as she slides out from the banquette. She unties her dress. I remember that dress from our epic two days together. It falls at her feet. Something else I haven't seen in months—that body. She used to say she was the cinnamon in my oatmeal. Her skin has a little cinnamon in it and I know how sweet it tastes.

_I'll just stay here and wait for you,_ she purrs, as I imagine her lying down.

"You do that." I grab my bag and manage to open the door and walk out to the cold, foggy morning and the bong of Big Ben. I clear my head with a shake and an order not to let myself to do that again today, then run through the car park, dodging the misty shadows of the vehicles, and head to the hotel.

It is possible to get a thorough cleaning in a hotel men's room, I've learned from experience. I won't go into details but...done.

Avi's early morning visit slowed me down a little. Martina's already gone up to the floors. I find her on the floor where Tim's suite is. She grins as I reach her. She's cute, with her brown streaked hair and dimples, but I won't do more than take her to lunch because she has kids to care of. We're friends.

She lets me in Tim's suite when she cleans it. She knows I won't take anything...just snoop.

Wherever Tim goes, I make friends with somebody who can help me. I told Martina about him and Avelina. I had to have Brian send me a couple of pics of her alone and us together on my phone to help convince her. I'd deleted all of them I'd had on my phone after we'd agreed not to ever see each other again.

Yeah, right. I can do that. Three months and I'm losing my mind.

"Good morning, Martina. You look very nice today." She has a pretty smile.

The door to Tim's room clicks. I don't think he's ever seen my face, but I don't take chances. I've had a beard a couple of times, though I'm clean-shaven right now.

I take a stack of newspapers from Martina's cart and begin dropping them in front of the doors on the right side of the hallway. The difference in the halls on this luxury floor compared to the others in this hotel is really obvious. This carpet is much thicker and lighter-colored. It pads the "feet of the elite"-haha. There are flowers in large urns and little alcoves with comfortable seating.

Tim passes us. He's taller than me. He has a permanent tan and mossy eyes. His face looks different after reconstruction on his jaw that I broke. (Maybe that was a little childish, but after he avoided jail and the judge—for God's sake—apologized to him, I had to make him suffer something.) He had a little more done while he was in the hospital. He looks like he's dressed for the gym in a $1000 track suit. Spare me.

Martina motions for me and we head for his room. She starts cleaning, while I check out his desk. Guess computers are too much for him to figure out because he has paper everywhere—better for me. There's a book, more of that de Sade crap, (When I think of him using any of that on Avi...) notes on his schedule for the rest of this week. Looks like we're headed back to Ireland. Good. By now, I know his castle better than he does.

Don't see anything to show what he has planned today, so I guess I have to do some good, old-fashioned tailing.

"Thanks, Martina," I say, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Go get him, Rory," she answers. She has a little natural roll on my name, but it doesn't affect me like Avelina's deliberate ripple.

Tim likes to walk. It's part of how he "keeps young" so all I have to do is wait outside for him.

The day's turned out fairly warm. I soak up the sun while I can. Traffic is light, a broken line, rather than a continuous thread, so I cross the road to wait on the other side. It's good to maintain a little distance whenever I can.

I don't have to wait long. He turns left outside the hotel and blends in with the flow of pedestrians. I amble along on my side of the street, where it's a lot less crowded, just keeping my eye on the top of his head—salt and pepper, I learned it's called.

Son of a bitch! He just went into a store, a dress shop. He's on the prowl.

The traffic's heavier here than it was in front of the hotel. I run into the street and incite a few horn honks, as I make my way across to the store. It's a small store, with lots of clothes and not a lot of decoration. I see he's already chatting up a cute young redhead with nice legs.

"My niece is just about your size," he's saying, like the smooth snake he is. "If you could try on this dress for me, I could get an idea of how it would look on her."

I roll my eyes. Surely it's not gonna work.

"I'd be happy to," says the squealy-voiced girl. I guess it is a nice dress. Time to go into action.

I walk down the aisle between the racks of clothes, concentrating my eyes on her, with a half-smile that Avelina liked. It seems to have worked. She's paying attention to me now, not Tim's line.

"Hi," I say when I reach her, "I wonder if you could help me pick out some sunglasses."

"Oh, I don't work here," she says in that same squeaky tone. It's almost as bad as the woman's voice from last night.

"I know," I smile, going in for the hook, while Tim fades into the background, "but you're prettier than the girls who do."

She giggles and I smile bigger.

"Excuse me, young man, we were in the middle of a conversation," Tim objects, jerking my arm a little bit.

I look at her and raise my eyebrows. I don't turn my face toward him. "Do you want to continue the conversation with him or go with me?" Yeah, I enjoyed that.

With a big, white smile, she hands Tim's dress back to him and takes my arm. We move away from the frustrated pervert.

When we're out of listening distance, I explain to her what she just avoided. Surprisingly, she's not so much grateful as pissed. The only girl I understand is Avi.

Tim huffs out and I hurry behind him. Out on the street, he turns to the right and walks angry. He brushes people without his usual smarmy apology; he stalks. I follow in a much better mood than his.

Now he's going into a restaurant. At least as posh as it looks, there's not likely to be young girls in here.

From the lobby, I take a peek inside when the Maitre 'D goes into the dining room. Who is that guy sitting with Tim? He looks kind of familiar. I snap a quick pic of him with my phone.

This place is way over my price range so I wait outside again. Hopefully Tim and the guy will come out together. They do and it looks like they're arguing.

They turn in opposite directions. For all I know, that guy could be a serial killer, but I can only follow one of them, and I gotta stay with Tim.

He goes back to the hotel. Guess he hasn't had the best day. My heart bleeds for him.

I have a late lunch with Martina in the snack bar. She laughs at my story about the girl and the dress. I describe the guy from the restaurant to her—average height, really thin, light brown hair and a big forehead. She promises to call if she sees him there.

As I'm leaving I see a woman headed toward the elevators. I've been doing this a while now. I can spot a professional. Yeah, she could be here for anybody, but she looks a little like the red-haired girl in the dress shop, like she's here made to order.

"Excuse me," I begin, "are you on your way to Suite Number 1220?"

"Who wants to know?" she asks with a suspicious voice.

"I just want to warn you, if you are. He's rough."

She looks at me, her blue eyes and mine searching each other's faces for a minute, then she laughs. "That's what he's paying for," she says. "Mind your own business, little boy."

She's obviously not underage; she knows what she's doing. I shrug and walk away. Actually I'm grateful to her. With her there, I'm finished with Tim for the rest of the day and night.

I send the pics of the man in the restaurant to my brother Brian for him to investigate for me. Maybe I'll figure out myself who he is.

In the meantime I'll go back to the RV and get changed to go out.

I walk in and I still see Avelina. She holds out her arms to me. That sense memory's kicking in again. It's almost like she's with me.

To Hell with goin' out. If she's goin' to be this close to real, it's better than any real out there. "Avi, baby, c'mere."


End file.
